Junction Paschendale | SO & DIA Junction for Stennaros & Yaga Minor

[Varis Oakertain]

The huffing of a beast, the breaking of wood and metal under its feet, and the sound of tarps being maneuvered.

Varis was setting his next trap. Taking several tarps used to keep ammunition dry, he had now made a varied makeshift web of hidden areas. Rubbing the scent of the first dead Wolf on every one of them as he moved quickly. Than as Varis moved into a nook in one of the bunkers he rubbed the pelt of the first wolf on himself. After throwing the patch of meet to the middle of the trench - he waited.

Before sinking into his position, the hunter had put small amounts of artillery shells near each tarp. This section of the trenches were going to be a fireworks show. It might have been luck or it might have been the Wolf hunting down any other remnants of the Diarchy forces that gave him the time for this plan.

Than the monster approached. Sniffing, coming up to the piece of meat in the middle of the trench. It knew it was from part of its pack and yet, it opened those metallic jaws and chewed on the flesh.

Varis aimed his whipcord launcher and bounced it off of a metallic piece of the trench. The trajectory allowing him to wrap around the bottom of one of the artillery shells. He pulled on it, allowing the primer to be facing him and heading between him and the Monster.

It looked at him just in time, Varis shot the primer with his F-11 right as the shell was passing by it. Igniting the contents within and blowing up right in the middle of the trench with the wolf.

A burning howling mess with one of its arms up to the shoulder missing. Turned to Varis and bum rushed him. He turned around and began climbing out of the trench. Yet he did not make it. The long fingered hand of the beast grabbed his ankle and pulled him back in. Than its vicious mouth had his leg, it pulled him to the middle of the trench. As the monster let go and came to bite Varis in the head, the hunter unleashed his whipcord and smashed it through the beasts head. With luck and aim it landed into one of the wooden pieces of the bunker. Pulling the monsters head back upwards as it did everything it could to pull down and chomp his face into mulch.

It swung its one good hand. Varis was weaving its claws as he tried to shoot it in the chest.

Than in a quick flash of light another explosion went of. Whatever it was it slammed into the beast from the side and disintegrated it. The hunter splattered with blood and mud. - Someone had saved him from death, or saved their own trophy.

He rolled, layering himself in more mud to try and dilute any heat sensing technology. His leg was in shattered pieces and bleeding. So he moved between the tarps. Magically finding his own hunting cloak that fell off during the attack and wrapped it around his leg. Shoving it into any of the parts that were bleeding profusely. Using his blaster he shot down anything holding the tarps up. Creating a cascading blanket that covered the entire trench line. If there was a hunter, he wanted them to have to get close to get their trophy.

Pressing the Pin of the Hunter on his chest he gave out a call to his friend Diarch Rellik.

"Never forget the first sunrise of a morning where you are not lost."

He held an artillery shell in his hands. Blaster pointed at the primer. If anything came for the kill. He would do his best to not die alone.

Khal'vyssa

Hunter Cloak, Vest.
Bandolier
Utility Belt
Whipcord Launcher
F-11D Blaster Rifle
Comlink

 

[Souls of the Lilaste order]

OBJECTIVE II
Airspace – 200 Meters from the Verrinox Estate

The inside of the gunship was hot and loud. A low, endless rumble from the engines rattled through the hull, mixing with the distant thump of explosions and the crack of anti-air fire outside. Thirty-six Ash Dogs stood shoulder-to-shoulder in the troop bay of the LAET/I MKII, boots magnetized to the deck, armor slick with sweat and dust.

Captain Alrek Varn stood near the open side ramp, one foot braced, with his hand gripping the rail above. The wind tore through the open hatch, carrying with it the smell of burning ozone and distant screaming. Below them, the shattered bones of the Verrinox Estate crept into view just two hundred meters from the frontline. Then the comms came alive.

“Ash Dogs, this is High Command. New directive divert south. Reinforce the convoy en route to Mystral Canyon. One of the Diarchs is aboard. Priority One.”

The squad went quiet.Varn didn’t say anything at first. He just looked out the ramp, jaw clenched tight behind his helmet. Explosions rippled across the landscape below trenches overrun, friendly troopers pinned, bodies left behind. With a grumble he turned to his men

“They want us to turn around,” he finally said, loud enough for every man to hear. “Convoy’s got a Diarch in it. Fancy armor. Big title. We’re supposed to run south and hold his hand?.”

He turned, letting the wind catch the tattered pauldron on his shoulder.“But we’re two hundred meters from the line. Two hundred from pulling our people out of the fire and giving those men some much needed support” He stepped closer to the center of the cabin, locking eyes with the men and women who’d followed him into more hellholes than most commanders had maps for.

“We trained those troops. We shared tents with them. Pulled them out of ditches. Watched some of them die already.” He pointed toward the estate now visible in full, wreathed in black smoke and fire.

“And now we’re supposed to turn tail because one of the royals might get nervous?”A few soldiers shifted their weight. No one spoke." Hell no,” Varns voice echoed with a bitterness of a man who didn't like leaving good soldiers to die. “We’re not leaving the line. We’re not leaving our people. I don’t give a damn what brass says we’re not retreating.”

He raised his rifle and drove it once into the floor with a clang.“We drop. We fight. We finish this.”He looked at each of them, eyes burning through the visor. “Who are we!"

Thirty-five voices rose in response, unified and hard.“Ash Dogs! Sir!"

Varn rose his hands out at either side of him before yelling over the comms once again " And what do we do soldiers?!!"

almost immediately the men screamed Thier response back at Thier commander
“Fall fast. Bite hard.!” varn gave a small chuckle before exclaiming "ooh rah let's show those sith what real warriors can do"

---

The gunship banked low, and the side-mounted cannons opened fire raking through Sith positions with blinding bursts. Trenches lit up. Enemy gunners scattered. Below, the men in the gunships could see Diarchy and Lilaste troops huddled behind broken barriers along with some strange beasts running wild,

When the doors slammed open.The Ash Dogs jumped.Repulsor packs hissed. Plasma fire licked past their armor as they fell through the smoke, LO-18Ds, LO-16Ds and LO-27R's barking fire before boots even touched the dirt. They hit in formation a wedge of steel and fury laying down suppressing fire and dragging wounded clear of the killzone.

Then the sky went dark. As four LAAT/Cs roared in above them, suspensor cables trailing massive shadows.AT-AE MKIII Walkers. Released at fifty meters. With a loud thud the walkers hit the dirt kicking up asha and soot

The earth cracked. Shockwaves rolled through the battlefield. Stabilizers slammed down, and servos hissed as the walkers stood tall monolithic beasts armed to the teeth. Without a word, they opened fire.

Twin LO-35R Gatling guns roared. and side mounted. LMGs began to scream through the haze letting loose large streams of lead. Trying to buckle the sith lines and give ample support to the exhausted, with a doctor's order of raw unrelenting firepower. One walker turned, main gun swiveling towards a a clustered up group of droids and firing a HE round at the center of them.

Varn landed last, boots kicking up dust.His voice came over the squad channel, calm and cold as ever.“Frontline’s still breathing. Let’s finish what we started.”

Varis Oakertain Armaros Asenath Commodore Helix

 

[Serina Calis]

"War, war is coming."

(OBJECTIVE 2) Tag - Callista Sharde ,



The scream tore through the battlefield like a prayer denied by the gods.

Serina watched—savored—as the lightning lit up every trembling inch of the girl's body. Muscles clenched into painful knots. Skin slick with sweat and soot. Her jaw slackened in a howl that echoed across the blood-soaked estate, a raw, beautiful aria of suffering. The scent of burning fabric and seared flesh curled into the air like incense at some ancient, perverse altar.

And yet…

She didn't fall.

The lightning ceased with a sharp crack, the sudden silence ringing louder than the storm. Smoke rose from Callista's uniform. Her bayonet still hung loosely from Serina's chestplate, steaming from the heat of the blast. Her arms trembled like snapped strings, but her knees held.

Serina's breath caught—not in surprise, not in rage—but in rapture.

"Oh my darling…" she purred, stepping closer now, voice velvet over steel. "Still standing? Still trying? That is just so precious I might cry."

She reached forward, delicately cupping Callista's face between blood-slick fingers, smearing her cheeks with the mix of her own gore and Callista's sweat. Her touch was tender—too tender. The kind that should have comforted, if it weren't coming from a woman made of ruin and wrath. Her thumb brushed along Callista's jaw, slow and sensuous.

"You came here thinking you were going to die," she whispered, voice curling like silk through a lover's hair. "But you didn't understand what death meant, did you?" A low chuckle left her, sweet and obscene. "This was never about your death, little knight."

Her fingers dug slightly into Callista's jaw, just enough pressure to remind her of who held the leash.

"This was about your submission."

She leaned in—close enough to kiss, lips nearly brushing against the other girl's. "You've already given me your scream," she murmured. "I felt it. Heard it. Tasted it. It was divine. And you stood through it, just for me. That kind of loyalty deserves to be owned, not destroyed."

Then she pulled back, just a bit, just enough to let her voice rise—richer now, darker, like wine spilled across silk sheets.

"I could make you a thing of beauty, Callista. A creature perfected by pain. I'd take your fragile ideals and melt them down until you begged to be recast in my image." She caressed the girl's face again—this time with her other hand, the bloodstained one, still crackling faintly with the residue of lightning. "And you would love it. You'd thank me. Worship me."

Serina exhaled, eyes half-lidded. "You'd look so exquisite in chains…"

But then her expression cooled.

She saw it—the trembling lips, the scorched uniform, the pain laced through every trembling muscle… and still, that look. That damnable glint of resistance. Not courage. Not honor. Just stubborn, human defiance.

Her voice fell into a silken hush.

"You really are going to make me kill you, aren't you?"

She pulled the bayonet from her armor with a wet schlick, letting it fall to the ground between them with a soft clatter. A heartbeat passed.

Then she drew up her halberd—Ebon Requiem, hallowed and horrifying—twirling it once, the glowing etchings pulsing like a heartbeat synced to hers. She spun it lazily, as if it were weightless, as if the act of murder were nothing more than a dance.

"I want you to know," she said softly, "you'll die beautiful."

Her voice dipped lower, husky now.

"And you'll die mine."

And with that, the executioner stepped forward, weapon raised, her form shrouded in violet fire and magenta lust, the world around them war-torn and silent but for the hiss of lightning still coiling along her blade.

The final stroke was ready.

The collar had been offered.

And denied.

 

[Callista Sharde]

Her strength was gone, what meager power she had, spent. Callista had no more to give. She was defiant, determined to honor her obligations, and deny this wicked thing until the bitter end. But she was done. She could fight no more.

Her muscles would not move. She was struggling even to breathe. The lightning had ruptured many smaller blood vessels in her body, leaving her bleeding from many facial orifices. Her tear ducts bled, her nose bled, blood trickled from her mouth. And she could only keep her knees from buckling for a little bit longer.

Serbia would get her wish in a way. Callista would kneel, prostrate, before her. But only as a vanquished foe who could no longer keep on their feet. It would not be a surrender, but a defeat.

Her face was seized, the touch oddly gentle, but firm and commanding. Callista was too weak to resist it. All she could do was meet Serina’s eye, let her see that her body was broken, but her spirit was not. And she remained defiant while she listened to Serina speak.

Her words were an odd mixture. Both praising, condescending and horrifying at the same time. Just sweet enough to tempt, just kind enough to coax. But subtly, yet undeniably, they were evil. And held deeper, more insidious promises of torment behind them.

Serina pulled Callista’s bayonet from her chest, the rifle clattering to the ground at their feet. Callista didn’t have the strength to keep holding onto it. And a heartbeat later, as Serina flourished her weapon, Callista’s knees finally gave out.

The defeated woman fell, awaiting her demise. Sitting back on her knees so she could watch her fate as it came for her.

She was too far gone to hear the sounds of advancing infantry and armor rolling up behind her. They weren’t quite there yet. But they might just make it in time. The rumbling of treads, the hammering of boots, and the howls of a charge. Callista’s unit was dead, all but her were dead. She was all that remained of the first wave.

But she had been fodder, like her fellows. Meant to break the surface, and make the charge of the true soldiers far more effective, and far less costly.

She had done her duty. And she could rest easy in that knowledge. Her aggressive defiance shifted to peaceful acceptance. Her name would not be remembered, her deeds would remain unsung. But she had done her duty, she had held the line, and she died now with honor.

Serina Calis

 

[Serina Calis]

"War, war is coming."

(OBJECTIVE 2) Tag - Callista Sharde ,



Callista fell like a petal in a storm—slow, trembling, irrevocably broken.

Serina watched her drop, savoring every moment of collapse. The way her knees hit the earth, the way her blood mingled with the muck and ash, the way her spine refused to bow even as her strength surrendered. There was no scream this time. No curse. Just silence—and the sound of a woman unraveling.

It was the most exquisite thing Serina had ever seen.

She stepped forward, hips swaying in predatory rhythm, halberd now lowered, no longer raised to strike. There was no need. The girl was hers—defeated. Not claimed, not broken—not yet. But on the threshold. That tender space between agony and transcendence, where the body can go no further and the mind still fights on.

"Look at you," Serina cooed, kneeling with slow, fluid grace before the battered soldier. Her knees settled inches from Callista's own, and she leaned in, resting the flat of her palm against the girl's jaw with an obscene kind of reverence. "Bleeding from every inch, spine straight as a saber, still trying to defy me. That's devotion. And I love devotion."

She exhaled across Callista's lips, breath warm, scented with blood and perfume and poison.

"You did your duty, didn't you?" Serina whispered, voice like silk sliding down a bare throat. "Your body's failing, your soul's unraveling… but you stood against me. And now you kneel—not because you chose to... but because your body obeyed before your mind ever would. And that, my little knight... is submission in its purest form."

Her tongue flicked across her teeth, eyes glowing now in the violet bloom of the eclipse.

"I could take you now. Not kill you—keep you. Rebuild you into something divine. Something worthy. I'd hold your leash in one hand and your heart in the other, and you'd thank me for it."

She leaned closer, her voice dropping to a sultry murmur.

"Wouldn't you love that..."

Her thumb brushed Callista's bleeding lower lip.

But then—

Boom.

The world shook beneath them.

Serina's head snapped toward the sound, the edge of her serenity fracturing. Not fear. Annoyance.

Boots thundered up the hill. Treads roared like war drums. The rest of the Diarchy was arriving.

Her eyes narrowed.

"So soon?" she muttered. "Tch. And here I was planning to savour my victory."

She stood smoothly, almost lazily, her cloak fluttering behind her as the ground beneath her darkened with rising heat. Her halberd lifted, tip gleaming as if thirsting for the next soul.

To Callista, she spoke once more—soft, but with venom coiled beneath every syllable.

"I won't kill you, girl. Not yet. Let your saviors come. Let them see you kneel. Let them see you mine—if only for a moment. You'll be their little rallying cry. Their tragic heroine. And they'll bleed for you, thinking they've come to save someone already lost."

She turned, facing the encroaching force. Her fingers flexed around the haft of her weapon. Lightning sparked in her palm again, licking across her gauntlet like a living thing.

Serina Calis stood not as a warrior—but as a storm, barely contained.

And now the storm would rage.

-END-​

 

[CT-312]

(All art on this bio/thread is made by me. The rights belong to myself. Please do not use the art without permission. Thank you.)​

//: Jacen Breska 'TK-710' Darth Prazutis Diarch Rellik Voice of the Diarchy Laphisto | OPEN | //:
//: Mystral Canyon, Serenno //:
//: Attire //:
//: Weapons: DLT-19 & Vibroblade Knife//:
//: OBJECTIVE 1 //:​

Watching
Waiting
Keenly waiting

Scorching flames and red bolt blaster’s reflecting on CT-312’s helmet’s visor. Hands at her sides, right constantly regripping her vibroblade knife. As she eyed the flames, high-pitched whines erupted from what sounded like a voice modulator. Shifting back and forth into glitching static to sharp digital shrieks.

Click - Click - Click

Hands reaching down at their belt to grab ammo, only to grasp at air. “I’m out. You think it’s dead?” questioned the Artillery Trooper. Liquid fire raging on, covering the full visual status of the RDB droid. All the Troopers could hear during a mid high pitched scream suddenly dropped to a guttural, machine-deep roar. “I’m roasting it. It has to be dead or dying at least”, pointed out by the Incinerator Trooper.

A faint silhouette could be seen in the flames. It was squirming. Then unmoving.

“I think we got it”, letting up on the trigger. Watching the flames consume what was left of the droid.

Suddenly a sword erupted from the flames, slashing horizontally at the Troopers. Easily slicing through Ketchup’s flamethrower, a small ball of fire detonated from the broken weapon. Catching the Incinerator Trooper on fire. As the sword continued its path, it made short work of the assault rifle Mustard was holding up. Startled, falling back on his back. “It’s alive!”. CT-312 raised and flipped her vibroblade knife downward, holding a firm grip with the left supporting the right. Absorbing the blow as the two blades clashed. Hands shaking from the sheer force , planted feet slid in the dirt from the pushback. The pressure dropped between the two blades as the remaining RDB droid that lunged at them with its swing sword landed on the ground.

CT-312 quickly looked over towards the Incinerator Trooper rolling on the ground, putting out the remaining flames from his retardant armor. “It’s very much alive!” screamed the Artillery Trooper, scrambling back up to his feet. Red glowing eyes locked with the Camo Scout Trooper. The melted scotched metal monstrosity was staring up at CT-312 from the ground. It was half of the droid. The lower half from the waist down was detached, remaining at the same spot where the Condiment Troopers were firing at. “GRAB IT” as she lunged at the RDB droid. Metal clashing metal, pushing back CT-312 every time the sword made contact with her vibroblade knife. Arms started to feel heavy as it kept absorbing the heavy blows.

Mustard grabbed the exposed wires of the crawling droid and what seemed to be the spine. Pulling in the opposite direction where the metal horror wanted to go. Mechanical guttural screams cutting in and out were heard as he continued to grip tightly. Ketchup soon ran over, tackling the arm swinging the sword. Hindering the droid's movements. As both struggled to keep the droid busy and in place. CT-312 quickly ran up, stabbing the knife into the RDB’s small gap at the shoulder joint of its free hand. Slicing through the wires. Watching the mechanical arm go limp. The droid began to thrash around more trying to free itself.

“Do something!”

Pulling the knife out, repositioning the blade upward in her hand. CT-312 forcefully rammed the blade under what seems between the neck and chin of the mechanical head. Using her left hand and knees pushing upwards to further drive the blade deeper in. The eyes of the red glowing lights were flickering as she pulled out the knife. Once more plunged it into the gap at the back of the neck of the armor plating. Pulling at the knife horizontally, severing the remaining connection of the head to body of the RDB droid. Red glowing eyes faded as the mechanical body just slumped to the ground with a loud thud.

CT-312 stored the knife away. Walking up to the now extinguished torso. Grabbing whatever ammo that was unscathed by the bombardment and fire. Looking around, finding the object of her desire. ‘Ah.’ , drawn to the L0-18D Assault Rifle. Picking it up and reloading the weapon.

“HA. We survived!”, shouted Yellow, throwing both arms up in the air in celebration.
“I’m pretty sure it’s dead” as Red lightly kicked the droid's head a couple of times.

BOOM. The arm holding the sword exploded at the joint.

“WHA-” , Stepping back from the head.

BOOM. Metal pieces and chunks of the RDB’s head flew in every direction.

“WE UNDER ATT-”

BOOM. The upper back of the armor shredded open as more metal bits flew everywhere.

Both Troopers snapped their heads towards the direction of the shots. It was CT-312. “I like the gun” expressed calmly. Completely satisfied inside. Paying back the RDB droid for destroying her previous favorite gun and how much a pain in the ass it was. It felt good. But it also couldn’t hurt to double check to make sure the droid was dead. Needed to test out the new weapon somehow.

“You’re crazy”
"Okay, now it’s definitely dead”

Walking towards the two Troopers, CT-312 knelt down and picked up the L0-9M Sword. Unhooking both rider straps attached to her belt, making a makeshift sling holder for the Sword. Strapping it on her back as she held her new favorite weapon in her hands.

“Mine.”

Red and Yellow were speechless. Looking both at each other, both weaponless. “The mission isn’t over. Grab what you can and let's finish the job.”

 

[Khal'vyssa]

Location: Verrinox Estate - Serenno
Objective: II - House of Ash and Blood
Mission Objective: Kill the Diarchy Command Structure and HVTs
Tag: Varis Oakertain

Khal’vyssa gave a sharp breath as the Dread Wolf was unmade before her eyes in searing, explosive fashion. She caught sight of her target in the midst of it, her HUD immediately verifying his identity as he rolled away in an effort to escape. Watching him move, the Echani knew immediately that he was wounded. Her ability to read body movements allowed her to perceive injury and weakness, almost to the point of preternatural elucidation.

He could not run. And hiding would only delay the inevitable.

As the tarps blanketed the area, Khal’vyssa surged into motion. Leaping out of the trench, the Shikkari kept her distance from her quarry as a ball-shaped drone zipped free from her hand at blistering velocity. The semi-autonomous seeker explosive raced towards its designated quarry as he sheltered himself near the tarps, the blaster pistol barrel he had pointed in his grasp promising mutual annihilation for any who came near.

Khal’vyssa had no intention of falling for the bait.

The drone detonated as soon as it came within 4 meters of the Diarchy hunter, generating a powerful, supersonic wave of overpressure that tore through the air in an ear splitting explosion. Though far from the blast’s lethal radius, Khal’vyssa had taken cover to shield herself from any residual effects, her ear pieces activating automatically to safeguard her hearing. However, regarding her target, she hoped that the explosion might severely wound—rather than outright kill—him, potentially separating the hunter from the artillery shell in the process.

Though Khal’vyssa was not one for excess pride, the Shikkari much preferred to finish her targets personally.

Spoiler: Loadout

• Moonlight Shadow
  
  • Arms
    
    • Lacera - Sith Lanvarok - L Gauntlet
      
      • Ammunition
        
        • 30 Disc Magazine (4)
          
          • Neuranium Disc - Void Stone Treatment
    • FAE/M-02 Energized Gauntlet Vibroblade - R Gauntlet
    • FAE/EMW-01 Plasma Chakram Projector - L Glove
      
      • Ammunition
        
        • FAE/AM-01-S2 Energy Weapon Cartridge (4)
          
          • Ethaerium Gas and CryoBan Coolant
    • Slicing Glove - R Glove
• Siqsa-S1 Semiautonomous Seeker Obscuration Canister (4)
• FAE/MDE-01-S1 Semiautonomous Seeker Concussion Explosive (1)